Coach Pat

Coach Pat, Patrick Dolan, passed away last Friday, October 22, 2005.

Most of the pistol shooters at the Phoenix Rod and Gun Club and many of those who frequented the public range had come to know his sometimes goading, sometimes soothing voice. He called a great many of the Bullseye competitions. Anyone who has competed there has probably heard him announce, "The line is safe. Go down and score those targets, ... and cover up that mess."

I met Coach Pat when I came to watch a Bullseye Pistol competition a year ago. I had been shooting for all of a few short months and had learned only that accurate pistol shooting was hard, very hard. While the competitors were down scoring targets, Coach Pat introduced himself and answered my questions about the sport. By way of suggestion, he said he gave private lessons "for twenty bucks until one of us gets tired or pissed off." Amused at the time, I would come to value his direct and "no holds barred" style of coaching. He was honest and real.

His love of the sport of competitive pistol shooting was surpassed only by his desire to see shooters getting better and better. Some like to teach because it lets them show what they know. Others teach because they truly want others to do better. Coach Pat was solidly in the second group: he wanted to see others hitting closer and closer to the X. Their progress, their growth, was his joy.

Pat's patience was truly extraordinary. Every time he repeated, yet again, some instruction I just couldn't get, it was as if he were saying it for the first time, measured, clear and direct. I can hear, even now, "level and smooooth, level and smooooth."

And in his rare, introspective moments, it was as if each event in his life had been a shot that stood out clear and stark, but after a brief glance at the goal, his focus would come back to the front sight, the next shot, the next moment in his life.

I think he would have said, "Life is now. Focus here, right here."

Coach Pat taught many to shoot; most got more.

Thanks, Coach.

Good Things Come In Threes

When I arrived home after work Friday, there was a FedEx note hanging on the front door.

"Adult Signature Required", it said. There was an address where I could get the package tomorrow.

That's odd, I thought. Neil's FedEx-land shipment of 1,000 reloads (from NSK Sales) wasn't due until Saturday and they usually just left the 43 pound package by the door. Oh well, I thought, times change.

After cutting the grass Saturday morning, I drove down to the address on the FedEx label and handed it, along with my driver's license as identification, across the counter.

She looked it up on her computer and said, "Just a moment, please." She disappeared into the back of the store.

She returned with my package, carrying it in one hand.

Hmmm, I thought, that's not the ammo. Who else would be sending me something by FedEx?

The only other possibility was the Smith & Wesson Model 41 I had sent for repair but their letter had said 2-3 weeks and it had only been, what, slightly over a week?

I signed for the package and, sitting in the car, opened it. Yup, sure enough, it was the 41 back from S&W.

"Wow, nice service!" I thought.

I moved the package to the locked trunk of the car for the trip home.

And when I arrived and pulled into the driveway, sitting by the door was the now somewhat rounded box of reloads. Unlocking the front door, I put the 41's box under one arm and carefully balanced the ammunition in the other, entered and pushed the door shut with my foot before setting both on the table in the music room. (My wife and I both sing and are active in music, jazz and liturgical, in various places around town. This room has the sound system and microphones as well as space for a couple of instrumentalists and a drum kit. It also has a good work table and the big TV.)

Going to the garage, I stacked two columns of ten empty plastic ammo boxes, each of which will hold 50 rounds, in my arms and carefully walked back into the house and added them to the table. I also brought a pair of scissors, the black Sharpie pen and a wooden ruler with metal edge to the work area.

I turned on the television and flipped channels before settling on "Dances With Wolves" which was about three-fourths of the way through -- Kevin Costner was a full "human being" by that point, married and I would say, "one with the Sioux."

Opening the ammunition shipment, I cut open each of the 50-round plastic bags, transferred each to one of the ammo boxes, and marked the base of the rounds with my black "X" to identify my brass on the line.

As the movie ended with the soldiers searching for Kevin Costner, I packed the 50-round ammo boxes in military ammo cans and moved them to safe storage.

I checked over the 41 and read the repair statement from Smith & Wesson looking to see if they had found a cause for the second missing extractor hook. The statement said, "THE FOLLOWING CHARACTERISTIC(S) HAVE BEEN EXAMINED AND ADJUSTED TO OUR STANDARDS:" and "REPLACE EXTRACTOR".

Not exactly what I had hoped for but, well, I guess they know their product better than I do. I'll shoot it and see how it holds up.

From my initial telephone call to repaired gun in hand, it had been 24 days, counting weekends, and eight of those days had been simply waiting for the initial shipping label. (If you're reading this S&W, that would be the one area to improve that would show the most dramatic improvement.)

The third good thing was the shipment of raw parts for the Ruger Mark II magazines had also arrived and was sitting in the mailbox waiting for me.

I had purchased the parts, unassembled, from Ruger because of the price. New (and assembled), they go for $15-20 each but I paid much less. Here's the invoice:

Qty	Part#	Description	Unit Price	Extended Price
3	A01700	Magazine Block Bottom	0.50	1.50
3	A02800	Magazine Block Retaining Plunger	0.50	1.50
3	A02900	Magazine Follower	0.75	2.25
3	A02512	Magazine Follower Button	0.50	1.50
3	A04000	Magazine Shell	6.25	18.75
3	A03301	Magazine Spring	0.50	1.50
			Parts Total	27.00
			Shipping & Handling	3.50
			AZ Tax	2.25
			Total	$32.75

I paid $10.92 per magazine and assembly took only a couple of minutes to figure out looking at the one I already had to see where things go. In the bigger scheme of things, I didn't save a lot, but what I did save was enough for gas to go to the range a couple of times.

Or then again, maybe I should take what I saved to one of the Indian casinos on the outskirts of Phoenix and put it on "33"?

Surrogate Shooting

A Bullseye-L email list member wrote:

It is an absolutely perfect sunny Saturday here in Northern California. Unfortunately, my wife has the flu....so I stay home doing my best imitation of Klinger.

Would a kind soul among the BE Listers please shoot 10 rounds for me on the short line and let me know how I did by the end of the day?

I was happy to oblige as follows.

 

You arrived at the range shortly after lunch. The sun was warmer but the air cooler here and it smelled of redwoods.

Several of the regulars interrupted their conversation to wave "Hello!" as you unloaded equipment. Putting on ears, you hefted everything in a single load to the line and your favorite position. The shooter on your left paused in his Slow Fire to nod a greeting. You stayed still for a moment as he raised his gun, settled in and, four seconds later (you counted), the fat "pop" of his wad load went off and the empty shell went squarely into the center of his catcher.

Probably won't need my screen today, you thought.

Before getting anything out or ready, however, you walked over to greet the guys still talking a few yards back from the line.

"George, good to see you," one of them said, his hand extended. You grasped his warm hand and got back the strong but rock steady grip that you knew meant "1911."

One of them said he had a new red dot to be sighted in today. Another mentioned some test loads he had brought.

As always, the conversation drifted to other topics. Spouses, work, kids, grandkids and oil changes were all mentioned. The upcoming anti-gun legislation was also brought up but no one seemed to have any idea other than being sure to cast their vote.

You suggested, "Maybe what happened in New Orleans will help," and everyone nodded in agreement.

Luckily, before that discussion became overly negative, the smell of burnt Bullseye distracted you as the breeze, blowing in from the targets, carried someone's cloud of smoke across the group.

"Well, I'm gonna go shoot." You said. "Hope one of you figures that one out 'cause I sure do enjoy this."

Everyone nodded in agreement before you walked back to the line and took out gun, ammunition, your two best magazines and shooting glasses. You set up your spotting scope aiming where your target would be after the next "cease fire." Just behind your position, you found a target frame and, lo and behold, it still had a 25 yard repair center with no holes all ready to go. You smiled as this small bit of luck and, at that moment, the P.A. system crackled.

"Cease fire, cease fire, cease fire. Unload your weapons. Empty all chambers, open and step away from your guns."

You checked to be sure your action was latched open as the gun lay on the table. All set, you stepped slightly back so the R.O. at the far end of the line could tell everyone was ready.

"Is the line safe? ... The line is safe. Go forward and repair your targets. -- Cover up that mess!"

Aha. From the attitude you knew who that was on the P.A. system. He's a nice guy, solid and confident but with a dry sense of humor. Someone to rely on.

As you hiked down to the targets, you fell in next to someone you'd seen at the last league match but had not met. You introduced yourself and he did the same. He asked when the next 2700 was scheduled but you weren't sure. You pointed to the R.O. back at the line and said, "He will know."

"Thanks," the other shooter said. You continued to chat as you set up your target and he repaired his but you got a quick look before he covered it up. All in the black and only a single eight, low and left. Not bad, not bad.

Back at the line you exchange email addresses.

"Is the bay clear? ... The bay is clear. Shooters to the firing line. Load and fire at will. Make noise, have fun!"

You focused then completely on your firing position and what you were about to do. You loaded two magazines with five rounds each and set them, lined up, in their usual position. Picking up the gun, you grabbed the barrel with your off-hand and carefully worked the pistol into your grip, flexing your shooting fingers and getting them wrapped around the grip just right. You inserted the first magazine and, holding the hammer with your off-shooting thumb to prevent any possible hammer follow, you released the slide and chambered the first round. The slide closed smoothly, solidly and with no hint of wobble or bounce.

"Nice gun," you almost mumbled aloud.

You looked up at your latest hand-written notes on the printed "Shot Plan" in the lid of your box and quickly reviewed the next few steps.

"Roll the trigger," you repeated to yourself. "Keep it moving, smooth and straight to the rear."

You took a final deep breath and raised the gun at the same time, your elbow and wrist locked into a single unit, the gun going slightly above the center of the bull. Then, you lowered the gun toward your aiming area exhaling but then you held your breath just before arriving at the correct spot on the target.

And your trigger finger started moving and you focused all your conscious attention on the aim of the gun. You felt the trigger moving smoothly to the rear and the wobble was slow and nicely centered.

"Bang!"

You brought the gun back on target from recoil.

"Ten o'clock, nine," you knew.

Lowering the gun, you leaned to the side and, sure enough, the scope confirmed the shot. Nine ring, not quite ten o'clock but close enough.

"Trigger finger didn't feel quite right," you thought. "Let's try it just a little deeper in the guard."

Your next shot, again called spot on, was a ten at one o'clock."

"Straight back," you reminded yourself. "Push that trigger straight back into the grip so the harp floats in the middle of its channel."

After three more rounds, you dropped the empty magazine, readied the next and methodically released another five shots.

After you fired the last shot, you removed the magazine and set the gun on the table. Thinking back over the ten shots, you smiled and thought, "this is a really nice day."

Looking in the scope next, you counted the holes. "Yup, all ten are there."

Through the scope, you started counting points in the nine-ring.

"One, two, three, four, and uhm, that one's pretty close to the ten ring ... ah, there's a grey smudge on the ten line I can see from here. That's a ten. So, four nines means that's a 96 and, let's see, one, two, three, four, five Xs."

You straightened up and looked downrange toward the target.

"96-5," you thought. "That's pretty good, and just like me."

Although you had only planned on shooting a few rounds, you decided to shoot a couple more targets. They were all in the upper 90s.

As you drove home from the range and thought about the afternoon, you looked down at the speedometer and realized you were going a good five miles an hour below the speed limit. You pushed the gas a little so you wouldn't anger the drivers behind you.

"That was great," you smiled.

Wad Gun

Okay, I'm convinced. My Springfield Armory "Mil-Spec" 1911 in Parkerized finish is becoming an impediment to my learning to shoot, but perhaps not in the way many would think.

The obvious reason that gun would be a problem would be its lack of precision. Indeed, as a "Mil-Spec" weapon, it is built to approximate the specifications the U.S. military laid out for a field weapon. It must have some degree of accuracy, that is true, but it must also continue to function after being dropped in water and mud, gone through a sandstorm, or having gone through days or weeks of shooting without being cleaned.

And to do that, the gun must be "loose". There must be enough play between the moving parts that no matter what gets in there, the parts can still move, perhaps not in the exact same manner as when completely clean, but it will work.

And that's where the problem arises for Bullseye shooting. In order to hit the center of the target time after time after time, the gun (and the shooter!) must do exactly the same thing, time after time after time. The looseness that makes for a reliable service weapon takes away from the repeatability that the Bullseye shooter needs.

But that's not the primary reason the gun has become an impediment to my progress.

More importantly, or more detrimentally I should say, the gun is beginning to hold me back because when I shoot a bad shot, I'm excusing it by thinking, "Maybe it's the gun, not me."

I'm using the gun's lack of precision as an excuse and as long as I have that "out", I lose the motivation to fix "me" which is far more often the cause of a bad shot.

In other words, I've reached the point where my mind is holding me back with the gun as the excuse. In order for me to continue progressing, I've got to make the gun as accurate as possible and remove that mental block from my mind.

So, Monday I called a local gunsmith, Frank Glenn of Accuracy Unlimited. Frank had been highly recommended by several Bullseye shooters and he is also well known in other pistol disciplines. I briefed him on what I had, what I thought I wanted, and then asked what he thought about that and what could he do.

I said I thought the gun needed:

• A competition-grade barrel and bushing;
• Tightening of the slide-to-frame fit; and
• Installation of a slide-mounted rail for a red dot sight.

Frank asked about the trigger. I said it had previously been done by another local gunsmith and that I was happy with it for now. (It is "crisp" with no roll. I've been shooting a different gun that has a "roll" trigger and I'm starting to like that feel. I'm thinking about changing the 1911's trigger but, at least for the moment, I will wait.)

I asked Frank for an estimate on the cost.

He said he preferred to use Kart barrels and, including labor, that part of the job would run about $300.00 [barrel included].

Tightening the slide-to-frame fit would run about another $100.00 and attaching the rail would be "not very much."

I said, "It sounds like we're around $500.00," and he agreed.

Asking how he wanted payment, Frank said, "For jobs costing more than the initial gun is worth, I have to ask for something up front. I've been stuck with a few jobs."

I somewhat jokingly asked, "What do you have that you've been 'stuck with' -- maybe we could work a deal?"

He laughed but went on, "But for this job, you can just pay me when the work is done."

Comparing calendars, we agreed on a time to meet at his shop.

Yesterday, I drafted the letter detailing the agreement that I will give him along with the gun. It includes the gun's identification (make, model and serial number), the modifications listed above to which I added:

• Perform any additional accurizing and/or reliability modifications as you see fit for a "wad" gun; and
• Acquire or otherwise provide any needed parts and include their cost in your total billing for this work.

And the letter ends with: "My spending cap for this project is $600.00, all parts and labor. Please let me know if you find something needed but that would exceed this amount, and do *not* proceed with my written authorization."

In so doing, I'm giving Frank the amount of leeway that I can afford, setting a limit on my expenditure, but leaving the door open for other considerations I might not be aware of.

For someone of Frank's caliber, no pun intended, I am confident of his expertise in gunsmithing, and confident in his business acumen to provide good product at a fair price.

In other words, I trust him.

I will meet Frank later today and turn over the gun.

With that, he will have my 1911 for a while. We did not discuss delivery dates -- I'm simply in the queue and it will be done when it is done. And my Smith & Wesson Model 41 (22LR pistol) is back at the manufacturer being repaired for repeatedly losing its extractor hook -- I received a form letter from S&W yesterday saying they had received the gun and that repairs normally take 2-3 weeks, so both guns are certainly gone for the rest of October with the 41 returning sometime in November, and the 1911 ... ?

If it weren't for the Ruger Mark II that I bought for my son for this Christmas that is still in my possession, I'd be gunless. I shot the Ruger last night at the Nighthawks league and enjoyed it. I had a couple of jams, however, with the upcoming round snagging the outgoing empty shell -- could be a magazine problem. That's the gun with the "roll" trigger and it gave concrete meaning to the phrase, "keep the trigger moving". The S&W and the Springer both have "crisp" triggers and, other than the take-up, there're no movement before it breaks. The time with the Ruger will let me figure out if I want to have the other two guns modified for the same feel or not.

I ordered the discrete parts for three Mark II magazines from Ruger in Prescott AZ yesterday. Ordering them that way and doing the final assembly myself, they are less than $10 each plus a small amount for shipping. When they arrive, I'll figure out if the magazine is the cause of the Ruger jams or if I need to sample some other brands of ammunition. For what it's worth, I was shooting CCI Standard Velocity last night.

Also last night, Don Plante asked if I would carry one of his revolvers to Frank. It's a beauty in .38 Special, just what I've been dreaming about. Don wants some work done on the trigger and had already spoken to Frank who is expecting me to deliver it today.

Does this never end?

Shipping Gun(s)

I shipped my Smith & Wesson Model 41 (22LR) target pistol back to the manufacturer earlier this week. The extractor hook had gone missing for the second time in less than a year and I had decided to exercise S&W's warranty and let them have a look.

About a week earlier, I spoke with S&W's service folks and they mailed a shipping label. When it arrived on the 8th, I noted the postmark: September 30th. It had taken a full eight days to reach me. Although I hoped otherwise, I suspected that would be a harbinger of how this experience would go.

The shipping label's arrival on the Saturday of a 3-day weekend meant I couldn't ship until Tuesday. Yet another bad omen.

On Tuesday, my letter explaining the problem had been written, rewritten, printed, signed and neatly folded in an envelope that went in the box. Plenty of padding had been wrapped around the pistol holding it in the center of the box which was thoroughly sealed with clear tape.

The instructions from Smith & Wesson said I would have to take the shipment to a UPS Customer Support Center and added that a mere "UPS Store" would not do. Browsing the UPS website, I found the closest Support Center was at the Phoenix airport, twenty miles away.

"Great," I thought. "There goes two hours."

I broke for lunch early that day to avoid the Noon rush. I arrived at the UPS airport facility a couple of minutes before 12:00PM.

It was closed.

The sign by the door read, "M-F, 4PM-7PM".

"Four to seven only?" I wanted to yell. "What kind of a business is this?"

But, of course, it is an overnight (and then some) shipping business. The hours did make sense from their perspective, not mine but, hey, I'm just the customer, right?

I drove back to work with the package still in tow.

Somewhat luckily, however, the Nighthawks league was shooting that night and I was planning to go. The drive to the range at South Mountain would take me right past the airport (again) so a second attempt at UPS wouldn't be that much out of the way. I liked to arrive at the league early and help Coach Pat set up but, well, that wouldn't happen tonight.

"So be it," I thought.

That evening, I picked up my son at 5:50PM a few minutes early and explained the necessary stop on the way to the range. Although he was anxious to try out the Ruger Mark II I had bought him as an early Christmas present, he didn't complain about the delay. He knows my Model 41, what a joy it is to shoot, and even with his own target pistol I'm sure he will still want to occasionally shoot the 41. He understood my desire to get it fixed.

So, we arrived at the now open UPS Customer Support Center. As I entered the door with my labelled and sealed box, the UPS worker put the novel she was reading on her lap and said, "Can I help you?"

"Yes, thank you. This package is ready to go."

Following the instructions provided by Smith & Wesson, I set it on the counter and added, "The instructions say I'm supposed to tell you there is a handgun inside."

If I had been counting seconds, I would've reached fifteen.

"Uhhhhhhhhh," she said, her voice wavering.

"It's going back to the manufacturer for repair." I said.

She stared at the box.

After another several seconds she repeated, "Uhhhhhhhhh."

I smiled and tried to look non-threatening.

She leaned forward to peer at the shipping label.

"It's going back to the manufacturer for repair." I repeated.

"Let me call someone," she said picking up the phone and dialing.

We stood and smiled at each other. She listened for a moment, and then crossed one arm under the one holding the phone. I assumed she was now on hold.

Minutes passed.

"I'm on hold," she clarified.

I nodded and shifted my weight to the other foot.

She smiled.

I smiled back.

I walked over to read the poster about the shipping of hazardous materials and, yes, "firearms" was on the list of restricted (but not prohibited) items. The small print at the bottom said there were rules to be followed. I assumed Smith & Wesson knew those rules. They provided the shipping label, after all.

Finally, she was connected and I presume that after whoever she was talking with must have called their supervisor who probably stopped to look it up in some book, the shipping clerk in front of me nodded.

"Uh hunh," she said several times listening and nodding.

Finally, she put a small sticker on the front of my package.

"Adult Signature Required."

Hanging up the phone, she added my box to the others for that evening's shipment.

"Thank you for waiting," she said.

I nodded and answered, "Thank you!" on our way out.

I wonder how her novel turned out?

It's Broke!

The 41 wasn't dirty, it was broken.

I purchased a slightly oversize nylon brush (25 cal.) to scrub the chamber and, when I took the gun apart to apply it, I discovered that the extractor hook was gone!

No wonder I was having so many jams!!

This is the second time that gun has lost its extractor in the 10 months since I purchased it new. The first time it happened, I called Smith & Wesson and they said they would be glad to replace it but between shipping and such, it would take a couple of weeks.

Worse, the technician went on, they were out of the part and the repair would sit there until they were restocked.

He then said, "We just sold all our extractor hooks to Brownells. The repair is easy. Would you like their phone number?" (Hint, hint, hint.)

So, the first time this happened, I bought the parts from Brownells (for maybe all of five bucks) and repaired it myself.

But with the second breakage in less than a year, I think it's time to let Smith & Wesson have a go at it. So I called them, explained the problem, and they are shipping the return label to me (apparently by bicycle messenger 'cause it's been a week and it hasn't arrived).

45 Troubles

The 45 was also unusable because its plunger tube fell off.

No guns! [Gak!!]

I made some calls around town and located the necessary part (blued finish) at Yost-Bonitz gunsmith. Anxious to have something to shoot, Ted Yost said would be in the shop on Saturday midday and, after explaining my problems, he suggested I come in. I did and, ten minutes later I was out the door with a fully functioning 45 again. (I owe him $10 because the bill was $30, I offered two $20s but he had no change so he just said, "Don't worry about it. Just pay me sometime.")

Too bad Smith & Wesson is unable to be as responsive.

Thanks, Ted!